Force Of Feeling
by Katrina
Summary: CS Modern AU: Emma Swan is scared of opening her heart up to any man ever again. Love only brings pain as far as she's concerned but then she meets someone who could prove her wrong...if only she has the courage to let him in.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** "Once Upon A Time" is copyrighted to ABC and Disney-ABC Domestic Television. I retain rights to the plot, but not the characters. This story is meant for enjoyment purposes only. No infringement is intended.

 **AUTHOR:** Katrina

 **TIMELINE:** Modern AU.

 **PAIRING** : Emma Swan/Killian Jones.

 **SYNOPSIS:** Emma Swan is scared of opening her heart up to any man ever again. Love only brings pain as far as she's concerned but then she meets someone who could prove her wrong...if only she has the courage to let him in.

 **GENRE:** Romance

 **A/N:** Based on a prompt from the lovely PopCultureSalad – 'Killian and Emma both single parents meeting every week in a park.' Hope you enjoy it :)

 **FORCE OF FEELING**

Killian Jones walked briskly along the sidewalk with his nine year old nephew, James, by his side. Fresh snow crunching underfoot, he shot the brown haired, curly headed boy a grin as they reached the park.

"Can I go, Uncle Killian?" James asked eagerly, already picking up his pace in his excitement to play.

"Aye," his uncle assented with a nod before adding a cautionary, "Don't run off too far though."

There had been a heavy snowfall overnight, covering the town of Storybrooke in a brilliant white blanket and James had been keen to go outside ever since he'd awoken that morning.

"I won't," the boy promised then sprinted away with a delighted laugh.

Killian watched him go and felt a sense of fulfilment at seeing him so carefree. There had been many a dark time in the not so distant past he'd thought that he'd never see James that happy again.

A slight frown marred his handsome features, his moment of happiness giving way to a familiar stab of grief as painful memories resurfaced unbidden. It had been two years since Killian had lost his brother and sister-in-law in a tragic car accident on the night of their tenth wedding anniversary. Two years since James had lost his loving parents to a drunken driver who'd hit them head on killing not only them, but himself instantly too.

The cruel irony wasn't lost on him that they'd left England in pursuit of a better life and had ended up losing it instead. Fate had a way of being twisted like that.

Killian hadn't hesitated to take his nephew in. Being able to focus on the lad had made it easier to deal with the devastating loss in many ways. Although in the end it had cost him another person he'd loved; Milah.

Pretty, forthright and demanding, she'd stayed with him for three months before she'd finally walked out without a backward glance. In hindsight he was surprised she'd stayed that long. He had known going into their relationship that she didn't want children but still, given the circumstances...

Abruptly he shook his head and determinedly pushed the unwanted thoughts aside. It served no purpose to dwell. All that mattered was James now and after all the pain they'd both endured it was good to be finally finding a way to be a family together.

It had been hard at first. Unsure of his role, he'd tried to be both parent and uncle to James and had failed miserably at being either. It had taken a good few months for him to realise that he just needed to be himself. That had been a huge turning point in their relationship, one that was certainly for the better.

Eventually, a little over year after the accident, Killian had started to scour the internet looking for a new venture. A new start if he were completely honest. One that he hoped would combine his passion for all things nautical and provide a challenge. He'd learned the hard way that life was incredibly short and his job as a corporate lawyer no longer held the interest that it once had. With James to look after as well he knew that he wouldn't be able to put in the hours needed to ever get that promotion he'd once held in such high regard.

His search had led him to a small town in Maine where someone was selling a modest bespoke boat building company. After working out the numbers he found it a viable investment and went to have a look. He'd been taken with the town almost right away. Its quaint charm a breath of fresh air after the sometimes cloying oppressiveness of the big city.

James had loved it too which had been what had finally convinced him to make an offer. After a couple of days of negotiations Killian had finally agreed a deal. The following few months had been filled with all the usual tribulations that came with relocating to a completely different State and life, but he'd not regretted it for a moment.

Moving to Storybrooke had been the best thing he'd ever done...in more ways than one he thought when he suddenly spied a woman and boy in the distance. His heart stuttered in his chest as he recognised the familiar forms of the town sheriff, Emma Swan, and her dark-haired son, Henry, thoroughly engrossed in building a snowman.

Coming to an involuntary halt, his mouth curved up into a smile as he watched them stop and admire their creation. His eyes stayed on Emma, gaze roaming over her figure when Henry darted off apparently in search of something.

She was bundled up in a warm red coat and scarf, the black woollen hat she wore doing nothing to detract from the gloriously long, blonde hair that tumbled down her back. He couldn't see her face but he guessed that her expressive green eyes were probably bright from the exertion and there would be a soft smile on her lips that he knew was reserved solely for her son.

"Uncle Killian! Come on!" James suddenly called, causing him to drag his gaze away from the pleasant scene in front of him.

With a small sigh, he nodded and carried on walking after the boy trying not to think about the strong emotions just seeing the woman always seemed to evoke within him.

Killian had always considered himself a realist. He wasn't a man prone to flights of fancy, certainly not one that believed in love at first sight. But from the moment he'd first laid eyes on Emma Swan he'd found himself wondering if it wasn't _such_ a cliché after all.

He'd never experienced anything like it. The instant surge of fierce captivation. An enthralment that seemed to simultaneously hit him in the head and the heart. It wasn't just attraction, although he thought her beautiful. It wasn't just lust, although his body was more than willing. What he felt went beyond that; it was more intense, more... _significant_. Somehow, some _way_ she touched a chord deep inside of himself he hadn't known even existed.

It had shocked him at first. _Scared_ him a little if he was honest. He wasn't used to such force of feeling. Especially not for someone he saw across the park once a week and with whom he had done little more than exchange a few glib comments about the weather and enquire about her day.

But it was also something that he couldn't just ignore. Especially when he was certain that she felt the same inexplicable connection to _him_.

There was something in her eyes whenever their gazes met. An awareness that often times had her quickly looking away and hurriedly muttering out an excuse for why she had to leave.

The first time she'd done it, he'd watched her walk away in silence, reeling from the realisation that whatever the hell he felt wasn't as one-sided as he'd thought. A sudden seed of hope had sprouted at that knowledge, warming his entire being and making him happier than he'd been in months. A slow grin had worked its way to his lips then and as she'd gone out of sight he'd vowed to himself that he would do his best to win her heart.

Unfortunately that was proving easier said than done as the lovely sheriff wasn't exactly welcoming his overtures with open arms.

Then again, she wasn't exactly pushing him _away_ either and he took heart from that fact because it was obvious to him that she'd been hurt deeply in the past. So much so that she now fiercely protected herself from ever experiencing that pain again.

Killian was nothing if not a patient man, however, especially when something was important to him and he had a feeling that earning Emma's trust might just well become the most important thing of all.

In order to start doing that though, they needed to have a conversation that lasted more than a few minutes each week.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" came James' eager voice slicing through his internal musings unexpectedly.

Killian was about to say yes when an idea suddenly struck and he cast a brief glance over his shoulder at Emma and Henry. Relieved to see that they were still there, he looked back at his nephew and smiled mischievously before suggesting brightly, "How about we have a snowball fight instead?"

On the other side of the park Emma Swan helped her twelve year old son, Henry, place a mostly round head on top of the slightly lopsided body of the snowman they'd built and gave him a grin when he glanced over at her for approval.

"I like it," she told him as she put her arm around his shoulders, "He's got character."

They both tilted their heads to the side a little and surveyed their handiwork for a moment then Henry moved away.

"I just need to find some twigs and stones then I can finish him off," he called back enthusiastically over his shoulder.

Emma nodded her smile fading a little as she watched him run off. It was moments like these that she wished she had more time to spend with him. Wished that there was more of her to go around. Her job as Sheriff of their small town was demanding but one she'd worked hard to attain and keep despite all that had happened.

She let out a soft sigh and watched her breath float away in the chilly air as memories long since repressed clamoured to be released. Remembering the past wouldn't make anything better but apparently her head wasn't listening to her heart as thoughts of Henry's father pushed themselves to the fore.

It seemed a life time ago that she'd been head over heels in love with Neal. It _was_ a life time ago...one where she'd been a completely different person. Ready for love, still willing to trust.

Abandoned by her parents while just a baby, she'd ended up in the foster care system. It hadn't been the nicest of childhoods and as soon as she was old enough, she'd run away. Hitch hiking across the country, she'd eventually she'd wound up in Storybrooke and had taken a liking to the quaint town by the sea. She'd got a job working as a waitress and found herself forming friendships. For the first time in her life after years of being pushed around it seemed as though she'd finally found somewhere she could tentatively call home.

She'd worked at Granny's Diner for nearly a year when she'd first met Neal.

He was the son of a local wealthy businessman and had returned home after finishing law school. He'd said and done all the right things to make her feel special. Make her feel _wanted_. After years of little to no attention, it was no wonder she'd fallen for him so fast.

Everything had been perfect...until the day he'd left her pregnant and heartbroken.

In hindsight she should have known by his reaction that he wasn't happy about her condition but at the time she'd just put it down to shock. It was understandable considering the baby wasn't planned but she'd firmly believed that everything would be fine because they were in love...or so she thought.

Even now Emma could still remember the swirling gut wrenching nausea she'd felt when she gone to see Neal after he'd stopped returning her calls. His father, Mr. Gold, had taken far too much pleasure in telling her that his son was no longer in Storybrooke. An unexpected job offer in New York that was too good to pass up he'd explained. No, Neal hadn't left her a message; why would he?

She'd known from the disdainful way he'd looked her up and down that there was more to the story but whatever is was she'd never found out. Never even tried. Neal had gone either by persuasion or of his own volition and it had taught her a harsh lesson about love that she'd never forgotten.

The sound of Henry calling broke through her miserable reverie and she plastered a proud smile on her face when he gleefully showed her the almost completed snowman.

"Looks good, kid," she enthused then turned her head when she heard a sudden shout of laughter cut through the air.

Some way behind her a man and boy were having a spirited snowball fight. Her heart skipped when she recognised them, her gaze drawn to the man when he laughed heartily at being hit squarely on the chest.

Killian Jones and his nephew had only been in Storybrooke a few months. Six to be precise...plus a few days that much to her own personal annoyance she could probably pinpoint along with the hours too.

Ever since Neal's desertion, Emma's love life, or lack thereof, had been patchy at best; heartbreaking at worst. Once bitten, twice shy had become a rule, not a guideline, in her book but from the first moment she'd laid eyes on Killian she'd had an overwhelming urge to rip up the damn thing and flush it down the toilet.

She had a feeling that he might just be worth it too if only she was brave enough to take the chance...but then again, she reminded herself bitterly, she'd been wrong before...

As if conscious of her scrutiny, the man in question turned his head and pinned her with his startlingly blue gaze. A familiar spark of awareness zipped between them then he gave her a brilliant smile that made the sudden butterflies in her stomach take flight and she quickly looked away.

What the heck _was_ that? Every damn time he looked at her all the walls she'd carefully erected to stop people getting too close seemed to vanish.

It scared her, made her feel too vulnerable.

Agitation had her shuffling her feet, knowing full well that if Henry had finished his snowman she'd already be halfway home. She swore she could still feel Killian's gaze on her but before she could give in and look around a large lump of snow suddenly hit her square on the side of her head.

She let out an embarrassingly shrill shriek of surprise then stood completely still, drawing in a sharp breath as bits of snow sprayed onto her face and soaked into her hair. The icy mess chilled her ear even through her knitted hat and she gritted her teeth against the cold.

"Really?" she exclaimed in loud indignation as some of the icy water melted and ran down her neck, sneaking under her woollen scarf onto her chest.

"Sorry, love. Complete accident I assure you."

Emma looked up at the sound of the richly accented male voice and swallowed hard as she met the gaze of the man who had been centre stage of her not so pure dreams ever since they'd first met.

Black hair ruffling in the breeze, he was smiling at her apologetically and scratching the back of his head in that awkward fashion she found annoyingly adorable. The usual day old scruff he sported seemed a little thicker than normal and the errant thought of what that would feel like against her skin sent an involuntary shiver through her body that wasn't entirely down to the icy water still inching its way down her neck.

"Accident?" she finally repeated inanely when he continued to stare at her obviously awaiting some kind of response.

"Aye. I slipped just as I threw a snowball and well..." he trailed off in a regretful tone that didn't quite marry with the mirth that she could see dancing in his eyes and gestured towards her head, "Couldn't do it again even if I tried."

"Then _don't_ ," she warned grumpily, swiping irritably at the melting trickles of ice that were wending down the side of her face.

"Pity," he commented on an exaggerated sigh, "And here I was about to ask if you wanted to play with me, Swan."

She paused and looked up at him sharply, her gaze narrowing at his raised eyebrow and not so innocent smile.

"Seriously?" she challenged wryly then shook her head, "I think I've had enough of the snow for one day. Thanks to you I'm freezing."

"Well, in that case, allow me to warm you up instead," he countered with another quick grin, "Why don't you and your lad here join us for a hot chocolate at the diner? My treat."

"Can we, Mom?" Henry suddenly pleaded earnestly before she could form a reply, "I was just showing James how to get to the next level on this game."

"Yeah, I've been stuck for ages and Henry's the only one who's got further than me," the other boy quickly concurred.

She turned and saw both of them clutching their phones while staring at her expectantly and her shoulders sagged a little in impending defeat. How could she say no to those faces?

"The boys seem keen so what do you say, love?" Killian asked quietly, drawing her attention back to him, "Are you willing to give me a chance...," he paused just long enough for her to hear the question in his tone before clarifying with wry smile, "...to make it up to you for my terrible aim, that is?"

Emma stared back at him and felt her pulse quicken. There it was again, that charge of...something that surged between them leaving her feeling exposed. His not so subtle question hung heavy in the air and her head was fairly screaming at her to run. To make some excuse and just get the hell out of there.

But her heart...her heart, dammit, was responding to the tender, yet cautiously hopeful expression on his face. It was urging her to listen to her gut and _that_ was telling her that this man wasn't like all the rest.

"You did _say_ we could go to Granny's after we'd finished here anyway," Henry suddenly reminded her helpfully.

She blinked and dragged her gaze from Killian to look at her son. He was right, she _had_ said that and she _really_ couldn't go back on it now could she?

"Fine," she muttered, albeit begrudgingly, earning a bright smile from Henry.

She slowly smiled back then glanced at Killian who was grinning in unmitigated delight.

"Is that a _yes_ , Swan?" he teased lightly, hardly daring to believe that she'd agreed.

"It's a don't push it or I'll change my mind," she retorted sardonically, trying hard not to be affected by his resulting rumble of laughter but failing miserably.

"We'd best leave now then, love, before I say something we'll _both_ regret," he quipped, gesturing towards the park exit.

Emma merely rolled her eyes at him then started walking hoping that a brisk pace might settle her suddenly jangling nerves.

James and Henry followed close on her heels, the latter giving Killian a wide grin and a nod that had him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

Could it be that he had an ally in the lad?

Certainly his revealing that they had intended to visit the diner was most helpful in persuading his mother to acquiesce. He'd have to be sure to thank him later.

For now though he was going to spend some quality time with Emma Swan and he'd be dammed if he wasn't going to grab it with both hands.

 **END CHAPTER ONE**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

They were late.

Well, later than they usually were in going to the park.

Emma had been held up at the station. She'd rushed home and had wanted to shower and change for reasons she really didn't want to dwell on _at all_.

Even now, standing in front of her full length mirror and putting the finishing touches to her make-up, she told herself that she would've done exactly the same if she were meeting with any of her friends.

Friends.

 _Friends._

The word kept bouncing around inside her head as she applied some pale pink lip gloss and eyed herself critically in the mirror.

Her make-up was light; clothes casual; boots practical. Nothing that said this was anything special...because it wasn't. She and Henry were just going to the park as usual. Nothing more.

Sure, Killian was going to be there with James but she'd made certain that he understood that there was nothing romantic about their meeting up.

Boy had she made certain.

She cringed slightly at her reflection when she thought back to the weekend before.

After leaving the park together, Killian had treated both her and Henry to that promised drink at Granny's. The boys had immediately sat next to each other in one of the booths leaving her to slide onto the opposite seat and sit rigidly while Killian sat down next to her with an easy smile.

Although he hadn't touched her, he'd still been close enough for her to feel the heat emanating off his body and she'd had to forcibly quell the instinctive desire to lean in closer to him. Instead, she'd scrunched herself up even further along the bench seat in effort to put whatever miniscule distance she could between them.

If Killian had been aware of her actions, he'd never shown it. He'd been pleasant and funny and charming and hadn't even batted an eye when she'd ordered cinnamon on her hot chocolate. Neal had always hated that little quirk of hers.

By the time they'd finished their drinks, she'd finally relaxed enough to enjoy herself. Worse than that, she'd realised that she actually _liked_ him. A lot. Not that that had made a difference. She couldn't let it. Not when it only gave him the power to hurt her even more when it finally ended between them. Because end it always did. And _she_ was the one that always suffered.

And so, once they were outside Granny's preparing to part ways, her tension had come back tenfold. The boys had been chatting together then Killian had taken a small step towards her with a murmured, "Emma," on his lips. There had been a heat in his gaze as he'd looked at her that had had her panicking at what he might say...or even _do._

"Thanks, Killian, it's been...nice," she'd told him firmly as she'd taken a step backwards and stiffly held out her hand to him.

He'd frowned slightly in response then glanced down at her outstretched hand and a wry smile had tugged at his lips. His blue gaze had returned to hers once more then he'd reached out and enveloped her hand in his firm grasp before uttering astutely, " _Nice_...but not to be repeated, eh, Swan?"

The heat had immediately risen in her cheeks at his words. She wasn't used to someone reading her so perceptively; particularly someone she barely knew. It'd disconcerted her enough that she'd been equally blunt in her reply.

"I think that's best and since we're being honest, you might as well know now that I'm not interested in anything serious," she'd clarified, annoyed with herself for the pang of regret she'd felt that contradicted her cool words.

He'd raised an eyebrow and she'd seen a faint glint of something she couldn't quite define before his face had become an unreabable mask.

"Just friends then?" he'd queried nonchalantly.

"Sure. Friends," she'd answered quickly...absently really, given that she'd suddenly realised that he'd still been holding her hand. More to the point, that his thumb had been slowly moving back and forth over her wrist. The subtle pressure was so at completely at odds with the sharp frisson of awareness that it had left her momentarily stunned. Stunned enough that it hadn't even entered her head to rebuff his suggestion.

He'd smiled then, a blinding grin that had distracted her even further, causing her stomach to do a lazy roll as she was hit by an almost overwhelming pull of attraction for the man.

"Good," he'd murmured softly before slowly, almost reluctantly, releasing her hand.

His fingers had trailed over her palm as they'd parted leaving tingles of electrifying sensation in their wake and it had taken her a few mortifying seconds before her brain had finally instructed her hand to fall back to her side. It was like she didn't know her own body anymore. She'd never known a man that could affect her so much with so little effort. Fleetingly, she had wondered what it'd be like if he actually kissed her and _that_ unbidden thought had been enough to shake her out of her daze.

By then, Killian, seemingly ignorant of the internal riot of emotions his touch had evoked, had already called his nephew over to join them and was taking his leave.

"Bye, James, see you next week," Henry had said as he'd walked to his mother's side and waved at his friend.

James had waved back but it was Killian that had locked his gaze with Emma then responded quite pointedly, "I _do_ hope so."

Without waiting for a response, he'd then shot Henry a brief smile, given her a cursory nod and bidden them both a cheery goodbye.

Emma had watched them stroll off, her hand involuntarily curling into a fist as she'd tried to dispel the feel of his touch...and now, a week later, she realised just how fruitless an exercise that had been.

It was as though he'd somehow branded her.

"Mom, are you ready yet?" Henry suddenly shouted out in an impatient tone, cutting in on her distrubing thoughts.

She blinked. Was she?

Gazing at her reflection again she decided that outwardly, yes, she was...as to everything else...

"Coming," she called back then abrupty turned away from the mirror and headed out of her bedroom.

"Finally," her son uttered in exaggerated relief.

Emma rolled her eyes at his dramatics and ruffled his hair on the way passed him to grab her coat. Doing her best to ignore the sense of nervous anticipation that gnawed at her gut, she and Henry left their apartment and headed off in the direction of the park.

Friends he'd said...and she'd agreed.

She just had a find a way to convince her heart of that.

CS CS CS CS CS CS CS CS

Killian glanced at his watch again and bit back a huff of frustration. The hands hadn't seemed to have moved since the last time he'd checked.

He would have given the face a couple of taps if it weren't for the fact that he could plainly see the second hand merrily ticking away, mocking him in his impatience...in his disappointment.

It was half an hour past the time Emma and Henry usually got to the park. Forty-five minutes since he and James had arrived.

It was obvious to him now that she wasn't coming. Not today.

Shaking his head, he mentally castigated himself for even thinking that she'd turn up. Knowing how much she'd shied away from him in the past over just a look, if she'd been even _half_ as effected as he'd been when he'd held her hand then he doubted he'd see her again before Christmas. And he didn't mean the one that was a little over six weeks away.

One last cursory glance at his watch brought forth a heavy sigh of resignation and he turned his head to gaze at his nephew. Snow was still lying thickly on the ground and the boy was busy industriously building a...he wasn't quite sure.

"What are you making, lad?" he asked, pushing aside his disappointment to produce a small smile.

"A snow dog," James answered, patting firmly on the rounded shape he was working on.

"Of course," Killian commented wryly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to 'see' it.

"I'm just doing his legs."

"Ah," came his uncle's succinct reply as he dropped to his haunches and began to copy the short, squat rolls the boy was putting together.

They were just starting on the body when a shadow fell over them causing Killian to look up in surprise.

"Cool, a snow dog!" Henry enthused looking down at their creation. "Can I help?"

"Be my guest," Killian offered quickly as he stood up and stepped aside for the other lad to take over. His gaze then locked onto the woman standing quietly nearby and he gave her a smile before greeting softly, "Glad to see you decided to join us, Swan."

"I got held up at work," she countered in a slightly defensive tone.

"Occupational hazard I'd wager. Must be hard at times. Especially with Henry to take care of as well. I suspect the bad guys aren't accommodating enough to stick to just normal working hours," he stated lightly, wondering if she could actually _see_ his heart it was beating so fiercely in his chest.

She'd come after all. He couldn't quite believe it.

Emma looked at him sharply trying to gauge if there was any condemnation behind his quietly spoken words. He wouldn't be the first man that thought her job too much for a woman. Moreover a single mother at that.

"I can handle it," she retorted coldly.

"Aye, I'm sure you can, Emma."

Her eyes widened at that simple declaration but despite her automatic inclination to dismiss his words out of hand, she found that she couldn't. His sincerity, his absolute certainty rang true. It shone bright in the warm look he was giving her and her breath caught at the feeling of gratification that unexpectedly hummed her body.

It had been a long time since anyone had expressed such unerring faith in her and it felt good. _Really_ good.

"Thanks," she muttered, giving him a tentative smile before adding half-jokingly, "Now I know where to come when I need an ego boost."

"What are friends for?" he quipped with a wry grin.

This time her own smile came far more easily and she felt herself begin to relax. Maybe this 'friends' thing could work between them after all.

It was a thought that kept coming into her head more and more over the following hour that she spent with Killian. Side by side they helped the boys build any number of snow creatures, some recognisable... some not so much.

Finally cold fingers, red noses and even redder cheeks dictated that it was time to leave. Once they reached the sidewalk, Killian turned to Emma and she watched in mild amusement as he absently scratched behind his ear before clearing his throat.

"I've enjoyed today, Swan," he finally said in a cordial tone.

Emma smiled and waited for him to continue. She thought... _hoped_ that maybe he'd suggest that they all go to Granny's again. As the silence stretched on between them however, she realised, much to her acute disappointment, that he wasn't going to say anything else.

"Uh, yeah...I did too," she eventually stuttered out when she saw that he was seemingly expecting her to speak.

There was another brief pause then Killian opened his mouth as though he might say something else after all. Instead, he flashed her a quick, overly bright smile then turned his attention to his nephew.

"Time to go, James," he informed the youth briskly.

Emma watched them turn and walk away, his words from the week before coming back to taunt her.

 _Nice...but not to be repeated, eh, Swan?_

Suddenly, despite her fears, she very much wished that it could be.

END CHAPTER TWO


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Emma picked up the royal blue coloured scarf and placed it onto the silver wrapping paper.

Christmas was in a week and she just had these last two presents to wrap. They were for James and Killian.

Folding the paper neatly, she taped down the edges and added a small tag. 'To Killian, Best wishes, Emma and Henry', she wrote. Nothing that could be taken as anything other than it was – just giving a gift to a friend at this festive time of year.

She didn't care to dwell on all the hours she'd spent searching for _just_ the right colour to match his eyes. Especially since they'd only ever spoken of getting the boys gifts and _not_ each other.

With an irritated huff at herself, she moved on to wrapping the second gift to James.

Killian had confided that he'd bought his nephew a new games console for Christmas, so she'd decided to buy the boy a game. With Henry's help, they'd picked something out and, once it was wrapped, they were going to the park to give it to him.

She attached the tag and, trying hard not to second guess herself, she picked up Killian's present then called out to Henry to let him know she was ready. Her son came out of his bedroom and once they'd donned their coats, hats and gloves, they headed out of their apartment.

The late morning air was crisp as they made their way to the park. Up above, the clouds looked heavy with more snow and a few flakes were just beginning to fall by the time they arrived.

As usual, Killian and James were already there and getting started on one of their snowy creative efforts. Over the weeks they'd made a dog, attempted a horse, built an army of snowmen and even tried to construct a car – hers - life size.

"Swan! You and Henry are just in time to help us make a snow bear," Killian called out, having seen her almost as soon as she'd entered the park.

"Awesome," the young boy enthused before shooting a grin at his mother and running off.

Emma watched him go, then her gaze shifted and finally settled on Killian as he stood waiting for her to join them, a soft smile on his face.

Suddenly, she felt flutter of trepidation stir in her gut.

What had she been thinking buying him a gift?

What if he took it to mean more?

Maybe she actually _wanted_ it to mean more...

"Emma? Are you okay?"

At his concerned voice, she blinked and looked at him a little dazedly. Her thoughts had caught her off-guard. So much so, that she hadn't even realised that she'd come to a halt a few feet away from him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered, giving herself a mental shake. She couldn't, _wouldn't_ go there.

Clutching the presents a little tighter, she started towards him again then virtually thrust them into his hands as soon as she drew level.

"These are for you and James," she told him in a rush.

Killian stared back at her in surprise for a moment. He never in a million years expected that.

"You bought something for _me_?" he asked incredulously, turning the packages over and fingering the tags. "Thank you."

Emma shrugged, trying for nonchalance - trying not to read _too_ much into his reaction.

"It's nothing much."

Inwardly she winced at just how dismissive she'd sounded but, incredibly, Killian slowly smiled.

She could give him a bowl of rotting fruit as far as he was concerned. All that mattered was that she'd considered him important enough in her life to actually give him _something_.

"It's the thought that counts, Emma," he reminded her warmly, doing his best to remain composed even though he was fairly humming with happiness at her unexpected gesture. "Speaking of which, I have a little something for you too."

"You do?"

Now it was her turn to be surprised. Apart from Henry and her friend, Mary-Margaret, no-one ever gave her anything.

Killian picked up the plastic bag he'd dropped when she'd given him their presents and handed it over. It took a little nod of encouragement for her to actually reach out and take it and it felt bittersweet to him that she seemed genuinely floored.

"Henry's is in there as well," he informed her quietly.

"Thanks," she said with a brief smile.

The bag was light but before she could take a look at what was inside, the boys called out to say they'd finished.

"That was quick," Killian remarked as he turned to survey their latest creation, only to be hit square in the face with a snowball.

"Gotcha, Uncle Killian!" James shouted in glee.

Spluttering a little, the dark haired man wiped the icy slush from his face and looked over to see the boys grinning widely back at him. It was clear from the pile of snowballs at their feet that the snow bear idea had been discarded.

"Oh, you're going to pay for that, lads," he mock threatened, then scooped up a handful of snow and lobbed it back at the boys.

They ducked and laughed, then the fight began in earnest. Emma joined in on Killian's side and it was only when the snow, that had been falling lightly, became noticeably heavier that they finally called an end to their fun.

Wet, cold and _happy,_ Emma felt more carefree than she had in years and sent a dazzling, completely unguarded grin in Killian's direction.

His breath caught at the sight of her; she practically glowed. He didn't think he could recall a more beautiful sight... _ever_.

Heart thudding, it hit him then, with a blinding bolt of clarity, that this woman was _it_ for him. Never had another person come even close to evoking the intense feelings that Emma could with just a look – or a touch.

It was nearly overwhelming, the storm of feeling, of _love,_ that suddenly coursed through his body. But as much as he wanted to tell her – to shout it from the rooftops if he were honest – he knew it would be the end of what they _had_ and not the beginning of something _more_.

She wasn't ready and he had absolutely no idea if she ever would be. The protective walls around her heart were sky high, but he had no intention of scaling them. He wanted her to take them down herself because she _wanted_ to; he'd take her lead in whatever she wanted them to be – or not.

And in the meantime, he was just going do his utmost to ensure that she more reasons to smile. To _feel_ as joyous as she so obviously did right in this moment, because the _one_ thing Killian _did_ know without a shadow of a doubt, was that Emma Swan deserved to be that happy _all_ of the time.

"Uncle Killian and me are going to Granny's now," James announced brightly as they all left the park together.

"So are we," exclaimed Henry, pleased that he was going to have an opportunity to spend more time with his friend. "We could sit together."

"Well, if you're going there anyway, you're very welcome to join Robin and I, Swan?" Killian offered with a smile as they walked towards the diner.

"No – thanks, but I'm meeting Mary-Margaret and David," she told him stiltedly, her untroubled expression from mere moments before replaced by her usual guardedness instead. "It's their first time out with Leo, so..."

"Of course, you wish to spend your time with them."

He nodded understandingly and looked away, seemingly unaffected by her rejection, but inside his stomach fell a little. One step forward...

Emma glanced over at him with a frown, her insides a mass of writhing confusion. Her response had been automatic. A need to put some distance between her and Killian because, for a moment back there, she'd forgotten herself; something that she was finding far too easy to do in his company lately. And she couldn't keep letting it happen because she was slowly coming to the startling realisation that her reaction to him was borne more out of _habit_ , rather than from any _real_ desire to do so.

Obviously, the logical thing to do would be to stop seeing him and, ever since Neal, her head always won when it came to her personal life.

 _Always_.

So why wasn't it winning now?

"Here we are," Killian announced as they reached the diner.

Deep in thought, Emma looked up in surprise that they'd gotten there so quickly. Killian went ahead and opened the door, giving a little bow and jaunty salute as she and the boys walked passed before following them inside.

Removing her hat and gloves, she muttered out her thanks as she shook off the snow and gazed around the diner in search of her friends. Standing next to her, Killian stamped the slush off his shoes then looked up to see not just the boys, but most of the people in the diner staring at him – no - _them_ as well.

He frowned slightly in puzzlement, then glanced over at Emma who looked just as perplexed as he did.

"You're under the mistletoe," Henry pointed out helpfully with a smirk.

Both of them immediately looked up and sure enough, above their heads, hanging from the ceiling, was a small sprig of the festive plant. Emma's gaze flew to Killian who returned it steadily, face impassive.

"Well don't just stand there; kiss!" Granny called out jovially from behind the counter.

Emma felt her face grow warm. She'd completely forgotten that the diner's owner always hung mistletoe there. Hell, _she_ used to be the one that hung it! Even _laughed_ at others discomfiture in the past. It was a well known tradition in the town that everyone participated in, but usually it didn't affect her because she was either alone or with Henry.

Until now.

How did she get out of this? Moreover, how did she get out of this when a part of her, contrarily, _really_ wanted it to happen? Wanted to know what his lips would feel like against hers. Had wondered, _dreamed_ even, what it would be like to kiss him, and here it was, handed to her on a platter with no strings attached.

On the surface it was just a silly Christmas tradition, but deep down she feared that it was one that would leave her wanting more.

It was the feel of Killian taking hold of her hand in his warm grasp that pulled her out of her jumbled thoughts. She glanced down, then quickly looked back up at him, eyes widening slightly as he gave her a quick nod before bringing her hand to his lips.

His caress was light, a mere brush across her knuckles, the mild abrasion of his whiskered chin leaving her skin tingling as he pulled away. His gaze had never left hers for a second, lending their public moment an air of intimacy that had her pulse racing with a now, all-to-familiar awareness. As he straightened up, he slowly caressed the back of her hand with his thumb before letting go and taking a step back.

"Problem solved," he murmured, hand clenching at his side as he determinedly resisted the urge to touch his fingers to his lips. Instead, he forced a bright smile to his face and hoped he didn't look too much like the lovesick fool he knew himself to be.

Emma nodded and took her own step back as his words sunk in.

"Yeah, thanks."

Giving him a brief smile back, she then abruptly turned away. Now the show was over, the low hum of conversation between diners began once more and she saw Granny give her a wink before bustling off.

"Emma, over here," came Mary-Margaret's cheerful voice from nearby.

She looked at the booth where her friends sat, then glanced at Killian again.

"I'd better go."

"Aye, me too," he replied, gesturing towards a table at the back where Robin and his son were sitting. "Thank you, again, for the presents."

"And yours," she said, her smile coming a little more easily. "Have a nice Christmas."

"You too, Emma."

He watched her walk off then headed over to the rear of the diner.

"Can I go and sit with James?" Roland was asking just as Killian approached their table.

"Certainly," Robin allowed. He watched his son join the other boys that were sitting a couple of tables away then gazed back at his friend who was just draping his coat over the back of his chair. "Well, that was an interesting spectacle," he commented quietly as Killian sat down.

A fellow Brit, the two men had bonded over a couple of pints and the common ground of single parenthood shortly after Killian had moved to Storybrooke. They'd become fast friends, but as close as they were, Killian had yet to tell him anything about his feelings for Emma - and, for now, while he was still reeling from his own little epiphany, he planned to keep it that way.

Without a word, he gave a careless shrug then picked up the menu and feigned interest. He knew exactly what he was having, but if pretending to read it could stop Robin from saying anything more on the subject then all the better.

It didn't.

"Oh, I _see_ ," the other man drawled with a hint of amusement. "You _like_ her."

"Aye, we're friends, of course I like her," Killian replied in a clipped tone, eyes firmly fixed on the menu.

"Friends, my arse," Robin scoffed lightly.

Giving up all pretence, Killian put down the menu and scowled at his friend.

"In case I'm not being subtle enough for you, _mate_ , I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah, so there _is_ something to talk about then?" he challenged archly.

"Not if you still want to come over for dinner on Christmas day," Killian retorted in annoyance.

Unperturbed by his threat, Robin merely grinned and leaned forward to impart with obvious enjoyment, "I promise I shan't say another word on the subject, _except..._ that if it's any consolation my friend, I think she _likes_ you too."

And _that's_ the problem, Killian thought to himself wryly even as he gave Robin an exasperated look. Emma Swan didn't _want_ to like him. It scared her and, out of that fear, she was hell and determined to keep him at arm's length.

Quite possibly forever.

"Let's just eat, shall we?" he suggested grimly, trying, and failing miserably, to not glance at the woman who had unknowingly captured his heart.

This time Robin wisely took the hint and called a waitress over.

 **END CHAPTER THREE**


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

"So, are you seeing Killian tomorrow?" Mary-Margaret asked nonchalantly as she sat and folded her newborn son's freshly laundered clothes.

"If you mean, am I taking Henry to the _park_ tomorrow so that he can meet up with his friend? Then yeah," Emma crooned softly, her eyes never leaving the almost asleep bundle that she held carefully in her arms.

"I _did_ mean the park actually and, sure, you're _only_ going because of Henry," her friend repeated a touch sardonically. With a wry smile, she picked up the next piece of clothing and made quick work of folding it up.

Emma looked over at her and frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation with her friend and she doubted it'd be the last. Mary-Margaret was one of those lucky people that had found a fairytale kind of true love with her husband and wanted everyone around her to experience the same. Which was fine, except for the fact that she'd gotten into her head that for Emma, that person was going to be Killian Jones - the man she'd been trying really hard to keep at a safe distance.

And, for the past few weeks, she'd been doing a damn fine job of it too...

Well, kind of. Maybe. When she wasn't being distracted by that annoyingly endearing grin of his - or the way she caught him gazing at her sometimes. Like she _meant_ something. Oh, he was always quick to mask it and she always pretended not to notice. But she did. Not that it changed anything. She couldn't let it - even though he somehow now just slotted into her life. A constant that she knew she could rely on. That she could _trust_. Those people were few and far between for her and she didn't take it lightly.

"Killian and I are just friends, Mary-Margaret," she stated in a long suffering tone, "I've already told you that."

"I know and it's great that you've let him in even _that_ much," she replied agreeably, "But that doesn't mean that you two can't ever be anything more."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Who says I _want_ anything more?" she challenged with a hint of irritation.

" _I_ do," Mary-Margaret declared, finally giving up any pretence of concentrating on the clothes in front of her and pinning the blonde with a narrowed gaze. "I've seen the way you look at him...and he _you,"_ she added pointedly when a red cheeked Emma opened her mouth to deny the allegation. "And let's not forget about that kiss at Granny's."

"No, _let's_ ," Emma muttered uncharitably, but Mary-Margaret ignored her, determined to drive home her point.

"It might have only been on your hand but you can't stand there and _honestly_ tell me that you didn't feel it right down to your toes!"

"Can't I?" Emma retorted a touch belligerently.

The other woman tutted at her friend's hostility and shook her head.

"Oh please, I was there. I saw your face and _his_ too." Seeing that Emma wasn't happy being told what she thought was obvious to even the most casual observer, her expression softened and she tried again. "Listen, all I'm trying to say is that he's a good guy, Emma. And you _like_ him. Why don't you just ask him to go for a coffee or something? See what happens."

"I know exactly what'll happen," the blonde retorted flatly, "It'll end up ruining our friendship."

"Or _maybe_ it could turn into something even better," Mary-Margaret enthused optimistically. "Look at David and me. We were friends first."

"Oh please," Emma scoffed lightly, wondering if there was any way, bar jumping out the nearest window, for her to end this unwanted conversation. "What you two have is special."

"Yeah, for _us_ ," the brunette agreed, "and you can have your _own_ kind of special with someone _too_ , Emma."

"That's easy for you to say," the blonde protested wryly, "You're happy; you've found the perfect guy already."

"You might have too," Mary-Margaret persisted.

"Or he might _not_ be and in the end I'm left brokenhearted again, just like with _Neal_ ," Emma suddenly snapped, having had enough of her friends pushing. "I'm not going to take that chance."

"Oh, Emma!" the brunette declared unhappily. She simply stared and took a moment as she searched for the right words to try and help her friend to see that it was time to put the past behind her, "What Neal did...it was _awful_ , and I know things have been hard for you but, honey, it's been over _twelve_ _years_...don't you think you've let him rule your life for long enough now?"

Emma eyes widened at Mary-Margaret's words, the truth of them striking an unpleasant chord deep down inside. She'd never thought of it like that and didn't like the stinging realisation it gave her either. She wanted to deny it. Badly. But she couldn't and that just made her feel even worse.

The baby began to fuss in her arms and she looked down in surprise, almost having forgotten that she was still holding him.

"Sorry," she mumbled apologetically, worrying that it had been her angry tone that had upset him.

"Don't be, he's due a feed," the brunette assured her with a smile as she got up and came over.

Emma handed the baby back to his mother then quickly stood and made a show of checking her watch.

"I'd better go. I just remembered I need to do some...shopping for dinner tonight."

She knew from Mary-Margaret's expression that she didn't believe her for a second, but she was grateful she didn't call her out. Instead, her friend merely summoned a smile and nodded then asked hopefully, "Will you and Henry come over for dinner one night next week?"

"Yeah, sure," the blonde replied with her own, rather forced, smile. "I'll give you a call and we'll sort something out."

"Great."

Emma nodded then made good her escape after bidding the brunette a brief goodbye. Once outside the house, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

She needed to think.

The short car journey home did nothing to ease her troubled thoughts. As soon as she entered her apartment, she went straight into her bedroom and sat down heavily on the bed. Flopping back, she let out an audible groan at her short-sightedness.

How had she not realised the way Neal's actions had influenced her before?

It was so painfully obvious now that Mary-Margaret had pointed it out. All these years she'd thought she was just being cautious – and with good reason. She'd been hurt. Devastated. Betrayed by the one person she'd believed wouldn't do that to her.

She had a right to be guarded with her heart, hadn't she?

Of course she did.

Only - there was guarded and there was closed off and somewhere along the way, she'd become the latter.

She'd allowed Neal's _one_ act determine her life.

It was a sobering realisation. One she balked at even as she accepted the truth of it because acknowledging it was only the start. It didn't mean that she could just snap her fingers and all her trust issues and fears would disappear like magic.

What would that even feel like?

To _willingly_ open up her heart. To _risk_ the possibility of getting hurt again.

Could she _do_ that after all this time?

Unbidden, an image of Killian with his laughing blue eyes and warm smile suddenly came to mind and her heart gave a little stutter. A familiar warm feeling started in her chest at the mere thought of him but, as was her habit, she quickly stamped it down, refusing to let it flourish.

Abruptly, she sat up again, her eyes widening slightly in mild panic. It scared her to dare think of anything more with him. What little she'd allowed was good. More importantly, it was _safe_ – something she was sure their relationship _wouldn't_ be if she allowed her feelings free rein.

Just looking at him was enough to have her senses swimming, and when they _touched…_ Emma looked down at her hand and flexed her fingers lightly before clenching them into a fist on her lap. Mary-Margaret had been wrong about that kiss under the mistletoe. She hadn't felt that brief, barely there brush of his lips down to her toes – no...she'd felt it _everywhere_.

Glancing over at her bedside cabinet suddenly, she pulled open the top drawer. Reaching in, right to the back, she felt around until her fingers came in contact with a smooth, wooden object. Drawing it out, her lips curved into a soft smile at seeing the gift Killian had given her for Christmas.

A beautiful hand carved swan.

He'd made it himself. She'd found that out when Henry had called Killian to thank him for the games voucher and wooden pirate ship he'd given him. He'd made the ship as well which Henry had been effusive in his praise about down the phone.

Emma had made some excuse about seeing to dinner when Henry had innocently asked if she'd wanted to speak to Killian herself. She hadn't known what to say. Not when it was obvious from the smooth finish and expert lines of the swan that it had undoubtedly taken a lot of time to craft. A lot of care. The kind that came from it _meaning_ something. She might be wilfully blind, but she wasn't stupid. She just hadn't wanted to examine his motives too closely. Not right then at least.

Henry had ended the call shortly after and told her that Killian had hoped she liked his gift.

She did.

Far too much.

In a fit of pique with herself, she'd shoved the swan into her drawer in the hopes of forgetting about it. Out of sight, out of mind. But much like the man who'd made it for her, neither could be expunged from her thoughts quite so easily.

And maybe, she realised as she sat there staring at the delicate ornament now, it was time to admit to herself that she didn't really _want_ to - that she needed to stop listening to her head and, for the first time in many years, start listening to her heart again.

It wasn't going to be easy, she already knew that. Anything worth having never was but, despite her fears, she was becoming more and more sure that she wanted to try. A tiny smile lifted her lips as a swirl of excitement started to unfurl in her gut at that thought. This time when she pictured Killian's face, she allowed the familiar warmth to grow, testing it out, letting herself just _feel_.

And it felt good.

 _Right_.

Slowly, she placed the swan down on top of her bedside cabinet. No more hiding it away. It would be a symbol; a reminder to her every morning and every night to do the same with her heart.

Suddenly, she let out a shaky laugh, the enormity of what she was contemplating hitting her in a wave of mixed emotions. How differently she viewed her life, _herself_ , in just a couple of hours. It should have felt too fast, but with each new wave of emotion that crashed through her body, it hit her that this had been coming for weeks now. Months, even. Since the day she'd first met him in fact. Right from the beginning he'd affected her and her heart had been silently responding to him on a level she hadn't even realised. No doubt, at some point, she would second guess herself, it was just who she was, but right at that moment, her most overwhelming feeling was one of anticipation - and no little amount of nerves.

It was one thing telling herself that she could do this; it was going to be quite another to actually face Killian. Especially since she'd made a point of telling him that she wanted to be friends and nothing more.

To his credit, he'd never once overstepped that boundary she'd put in place and now...now it was down to _her_ to remove it.

A cup of coffee, Mary-Margaret had suggested. See what happens.

It sounded so...easy. So non-committal and yet, it'd be a tentative, albeit huge, step forward. For her at least.

But when to do it? Wait and casually ask the next day? With the boys there, it'd certainly be easier.

Or...

"No time like the present," she muttered wryly to herself as she stood up, suddenly decided.

With one last glance at the swan to bolster her confidence, she left the apartment and got into her car. Heart thumping, she headed off towards the docks and maybe, just _maybe_ , towards the start of something good.

END CHAPTER FOUR


End file.
